


DUSK 'TIL DAWN

by franklyocean



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Childhood Friends, End of the World, Fantasy, Other, Outer Space, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franklyocean/pseuds/franklyocean
Summary: i remember you.





	1. END OF THE BEGINNINGS

**DUSK 'TIL DAWN**

**A JOURNEY WITH BCH & KTG  
**

 

 **━━** **OH, BUT WHEN** the stars fall and when your sparks cut out ( _the heavens should beg you to ask for mercy_ ), run. Run as fast as your feet can take you. This world is not for you, darling. Take your ambrosia tears and gemstone heart and lock it in Pandora's box. Make sure to toss it into a paradox so no one can find it. Seal your lips and close your eyes. Fall into a sea of stars ( _no one can tell the difference between the sea and sky anymore_ ) and drown yourself into Atlantis and glide gracefully with the whales.

Win a fistfight with the galaxy and maybe she'll stop the war. Stab time in the back and throw her behind you, maybe she'll stop running and give up ( _rest, sweetheart_ ). Tell coincidence you never stumbled upon his sad and dreary eyes ( _they used to hold dreams_ ), maybe accidents will cease from your endurance. Give fate a goodbye kiss, maybe she'll stop longing for your touch. But I swear, she knew it was coming ( _you, leaving_ ).

Tell the gods and goddesses and demons and angels that you said you'll save the love of your life, even if it meant doing all those things. Maybe, just maybe, they'll spare you for the hellhounds instead of their wrath hidden in their rusty iron chalices ( _a breathy, monotonous laugh_ ). Maybe, they'll bring your light back. They'll bring your love, the one with the battered soul covered in gold and blood with lush skin that's tainted with sin and eyes that used to hold the vermilion fire but now has feeble ashes of abandoned space ships, back onto your withered hands.

But no promises. They lie, don't they?


	2. EVENING

_**MIDSUMMER — PR.** _

**JUNE'2057, _MELOSA._**

**10 YEARS OLD.**

 

━━ **THE MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S EVENING** took a flourishing shape in two boys. They are seen as kinetic silhouettes against a sky of falling gradient hues with sticky vanilla ice cream lips and wide, toothy grins.

Simply put, these boys are happy.

They run across the field ( _laughter ensues_ ), long grass highlighted with sparkles of gold from the setting sun tickling their legs as they sprint together with the initial destination unknown.

Their young minds think that they were on some mighty adventure with great white stallions riding off to the festival of summer in the middle of a glimmering ocean. The figment seemed so real to the both of them, but to an adult, it was only just a favorite fading fantasy.

There are still adults who know how to dream; how to dream about realities that are physically impossible to obtain — like flying through cotton clouds or walking on water, living through glass realities, but they still fantasize about the impossible. It's beautiful.

Both these boys will meet tragedy ( _oh, what a travesty_ ) and it will come in an image of broken moons and twisted planets. They hide behind creatures of melancholy paintings and echoing cries of bleeding roses carved onto Saturn's burnt rings ( _she was tired_ ). They are not ready for milky way's ataxia ( _watch him crumble into shattered pieces of a 5AM heaven_ ), no one truly is, but when it comes, they will be there for each other to the end of the line ( ** _look_** _, that line will be deathless_ ).

 _But oh darling_ , time is dying and she wants to win a fistfight with the galaxy.


	3. AFTERNOON

_**LATE SUMMER.** _

**AUGUST'2061, _MELOSA._  
**

**14 YEARS OLD.  
**

 

━━  **SIMPLE LITTLE THINGS** come in a small six pack bottle of orange fanta, spicy barbecue chips and a cool breeze whipping through fluffy, curly bedhead hair.

The same two boys sit in the same field.

The sun kisses their skin gently, leaving honey in its wake ( _it drips down like tears_ ). They sit next to each other, shoulders touching with one shoulder clothed in a soft black t-shirt, the other with a solid white tank top, letting as much skin as possible drown in the Heilos’ light  He and his chariot are driving around the earth, circling it and leaving remnants of stars.

The field is expansive. Multitudes of space surrounds them and the trees enclose them in a belt of leaves and branches. A small pond sits at the northeast side of the field with a weeping willow tree above it. There are lilly pads and flowers floating in the water, getting the same amount of love from Heilos as the two boys are getting.

Even when there is an abundance of space, the two still choose to sit as close as possible, leaving no space between them. The reason being for this is because they simply want to be near each other. The familiarity of each others’ presence seems more natural to them than their own homes, for they know each other from the back of their hand and can tell who it is just by a simple intake of breath is the other’s eyes were closed.

Speaking if home, that was miles away from the field. When they enter this field full of memories of never ending laughter and watching the sun rise, the sun set, and the stars glow, they forget their reality outside of the field. They forget about their bleak homes and dull four-walled rooms. They forget about their families and their schoolwork and they just sit there, constant and relaxed in the sun or within the faint glow of the two moons.

No ones comes into the field, seeing how it is in the middle of nowhere. Both boys make the effort to bike their way to their location, letting the mess their hair up imperfectly but still perfect in a sense. Perfectly messy.

This field is owned by no one, seen by no one else and it is theirs to keep. For now, it seems.

Their stories have barely started — even when they had entered the world in the first millisecond, that was not the beginning of their story. That was the start of their life.

This, however, the two of them sitting there in the same time and space, doing absolutely nothing, is the start.

Something could have kick-started it. No one can figure it out and maybe you cannot either, but something seems to be different this time around at the field. Maybe the other feels different, maybe something has changed. What was that something? Perhaps it a new feeling, a new way of thinking?

Pondering over it, it seems that there is this little bundle of spark between them. In this universe, there are different types of sparks, meaning different things. The sparks, have power. When the stars align in just the right way, the spark from the grouping of stars gets sent all the way to earth to pick a person, whoever it chooses. The spark nestles inside the person and they have to find what their spark means. Sometimes when the stars align too similar to another group of stars, the spark is shared between two or more people.

They are simply called, soulmates.

This type of spark, the ones the two boys share, it is powerful. Simply because the boys share the same feeling with each other that is so much more powerful than what the stars could explain. Asteria herself couldn’t give you an explanation and she’s the goddess of falling stars. Stars can fall in love too, you know.

With their new stories being written in the ink crafted straight from the nebula, they continue to inhale and exhale, share the same spark, the same grassy fantasy and continue to forget about their own lives, just for a bit longer.

 

 

 

 

 

 ** _The inferno_** act one:

AND THEY WERE SWALLOWED UP BY LIQUID COSMOS AND WASHED AWAY BY THR SANDS OF TIME.

OH, BUT IF ONLY THEY KNEW! IF ONLY THEY KNEW ABOUT THE STARS’ ALIGNMENT BREAKING INTO SECONDS TO SEPARATE YOU FROM THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE.

NOT ONLY DID THEY STAB YOU IN THE BACK WITH THEIR KNIFE, THEY TOOK THE STARS OUT OF YOYR EYES AND STEPPED ON YOUR GEMSTONE HEART AND TOOK THEM TO THE MOONDS! ( _how else would the moons shine so bright?_ )

REMEMBER TO TAKE YOUR STAR ( _no, your spark_ ) AND HANSE IT INTO YOUR DOWNFALL. DARLING, ONLY GOD KNOWS ( _if he was even there_ ) THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE FALLEN STARS.

THE OUTCOME IS PATHETIC LOVE SONNETS AND TEARS OF—

It is _pathetic_.

 

 

 


	4. MIDNIGHT

**_SPRING._ **

**MARCH'2062, _MELOSA._**

**15 YEARS OLD.**

━━ **THEY ARE SITTING IN AN** abandoned instrument shop where the broken storefront window is shattered to pieces by one boy throwing a bottle at the glass. The wind easing through the window skim their bare arms and relaxingly chill the heat.   

The one who threw the beer bottle at the window, is teaching the other how to play the piano, guiding his fingers on the keys and pressing on them gently.   

The tune was something from a song the piano player wrote. He whistles the tune while he walks down sidewalks and when he goes to school. It's always stuck in his head.   

This song is precious to its creator. Sharing it with someone he loves makes it more intimate. It fuels the spark in them that fused together.   

In time, the spark will grow to its fullest.  

(B _ut wait, they don't know that sparks can die out_ ).   

The song on the piano keys sound warbling. Like a broken music box that was left standing, and it being the only thing left, after a nearby war struck.   

It sounds like rain falling, feels like melancholy, and makes you want to run away, fall into the dark and never come back.   

The notes echo off the broken walls and ring in their ears. It's midnight and both of them are fearing that they will get caught. They wouldn't want to get in trouble again.  

But they aren't scared to the point where they will leave.  

Instead, they play together in the dead of night; learning how to play a song that can be heard lightyears away.   

And they chase it into oblivion.                        

 

 

 

 

 

 **The first love** act two:               

THE VIOLINS (no, the violence) SCREAM BACK AT ME WITH NOTES OF HEARTBREAK AND CHEAP OLD MOTEL ROOMS.               

THE PIANOS (no, the tragedy) CRY THEIR HEARTS OUT AND PLAY TUNES OF BROKEN GLASS AND REJECTED ART.                

THE HARPS (no, the chaos)—                     

They play tunes of beauty and rose petals. It sounds like heaven but if you listen closely, you'll see hell through it's thin strings. Its tune sounds like glass chalices clinking and bubbly wine being poured into, but cut the strings into pieces and the universe will come pouring out.


	5. BANDAIDS

_**SUMMER.** _

**JULY'2063, _MELOSA._ **

**16 YEARS OLD.**

 

━━ **TIME REALLY LIKED TO STOP FIGHTS**. He would try to do anything he can to get the victim out of the way and put himself in their place just so they won't have to go through any pain again. The boy says to the other that he likes to help people – he wants to do it when he older. The other thinks he will be the best at it.

("Hyung," Time says. "I wanna help people." 

"And you will. I promise." He chuckles. It sounds like soft piano keys. "Just try not to die in the process, ok?" 

Time laughs, bringing his head back to rest on the other's shoulder. "Of course, hyung. I won't.")  

But how he helps people, is sort of the wrong way. Time does not really run to get help, or try to stop the person fighting a victim – he would always force himself into the fight ( _he'll end up burning in a fire_ ) to get the victim some time to run. He goes and fights the opponent instead and ends up with broken bones and a torn up soul ( _how many stitches will it take to fix a ripped up soul?_ ).   

Space is always the one who patches him up ( _hey, he's the one who puts the bandaids on his heart_ ).  

It is nearing 6PM when it happens.  

There's a kid at the back of their school who was getting choked by someone's hand ( _humans have too much power_ ) while getting held against by the wall with three other people punching the kid in the gut ( _each act of violence flickers the kid's spark_ ).  

See, most fights end with the opponents on the floor, but this one had been completely different. It's mainly because they have weapons while Time only has his hands. Space has nothing else besides skin and bones ( _and maybe a sharp tongue with a mouth full of tricks and wit_ ).   

They do what the always do.   

Simply, they run.   

The hours passed with sangria and boysenberry bruised knuckles and mulberry scraped knees ( _let's play fight club in the middle of Hesperides' shining act_ ). Both moons are visible against the cherry colored sky. It is ethereal but the actions happening under it is pure forms of ugly violence.   

( _Violence_ _is an addiction_ ).  

Space and Time have rosebud lips stained with dry blood and wine colored bruises.   

They want to win a pathetic street fight all for a kid who was beaten to the ground. It's melodramatic in a sense that oh, _darling_ you wanna win against something far more stronger than you, but yet you try anyway.   

Then the officers came and took the others away from the two boys. They ran away from the distracted officers, grinning with their arms spread wide.  

Afterwards, their Thursday night is spent on a dirty curb in front of a shady corner store ( _it has flickering lights and an owner with a glass heart_ ). The air smells like angst and grime and all that there is present, is two boys cracked and walloped and trying to fix each other as best as they are held against an orange and blue sky.  

Space is wrapping a bandage on Time's bruises.   

Just like always.   

His hands are gentle around the scratches and his thumbs soothe over the marks made harshly on his skin. Time watches carefully, forcing himself not to flinch when Space presses a little bit too hard on the marks. It's like he wanted to heal Time with just his touch, but only stars in the sky could grant him a wish like that.   

And god knows that the stars won't grant shit.  

(W _atch your back, boys. Don't be rude to the stars. They'll change your fate from better to worse_ ).  

"You know," Time starts. "You didn't have to do anything."  

Space shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, but I'd do anything for you."  

He says this as he wraps another bandage around his wrist, coming up to bow around the palm. He takes a glance up at his friend to only see that he had already been staring at him. The realization makes him blush ( _they look like roses_ ), but he blames it on the lack of energy. Though, that does not make any sense ( _and yet, there are two moons in the sky and no one can give an answer to that_ ).  

With Time right in front of him, Space crouching on the tar while the other was on concrete, he can easily place a bandaid on his cheekbone, where a cut had been kissed onto his skin. Space wants it gone. A sticky bandaid goes on his jaw, on the bridge of his nose. Another goes around his ring finger ( _he'll marry him even with a flickering sparked soul_ ), on his pointer, and on his thumb.   

Hesitatingly, he cups Time's face with hand and lightly touches the gruesome split of his lips. The blood is dry and it needs to be cleaned.   

Space sighs.   

"Why do you always get yourself hurt in the face of victory, huh?" He says this jokingly, pulling away his hand. Time smiles and winces when his smile had been too wide. He hates that cut for stopping Time's full smile.   

The other shrugs. "I dunno. Why are you so wimpy?"  

"I'm not fucking wimpy."  

"Hmm, I think you are. It's sorta kinda cute."  

Space frowns, rolling a bandage around both of his wrists, on his palms and between his fingers. They almost look like gloves. Time takes his hands in his and finishes the rest for him. When he does things like this, care for him gently and just simply hold his hands, it makes him buzz.   

He hates it.   

"Yeah, well," Space shuts his mouth and bites his lip to cut off his own words. "Yeah, never mind."  

His friend nudges him with his shoe to make him look up. When he does, Time's face is half-cut in the sun, half in the dark. His left eye has turned into a fusion of golds and browns while his other has stayed inky but warm. He's half-smiling, bangs hovering over his eyes. He looks beautiful with the bandaids and the bruises plastered all over him and Space can't really respond to something like that.  

The air has left his lungs.   

"What were you gonna say, huh?" Time nudges his shoe again. He grabs his wrist and shakes it, as if shaking him would pry the answers out of him. "C'mon, hyung! We don't keep shit from each other, yeah?"  

Space gulps nervously. He offhandedly touches his bangs to bring them over his eyes but they aren't long enough. He inwardly swears and forces himself to speak.   

"I was jus' gonna say that you look cute," Space mumbles. He doesn't mean to sound tired, exhaustion is just catching up to him. He does have enough energy to clear his throat awkwardly and rub the back of his neck, looking down to eye a broken piece of car metal on the tar. "Or whatever."   

He can feel Time's eyes on him. He doesn't know whether they're the good or bad kind.   

But in a few short seconds, Time pulls him into a bone crushing hug that hurts the both of them, but neither move to pull away.   

"You're always saving me, y'know?" Time says into his shoulder. Space's hands rest at his shoulder blades as his eyes flutter close. He melts into Time's touch and he hates how affected he is. He's weaker for time than he is for anything else ( _and that will be his downfall_ ). "When will I ever save you back?"  

Space shrugs this time. "Dunno, darling. jus'...just know that I'll save you again and again and..." he sucks air between his teeth. It sounds sort of like a hiss. "I sound pretty tired, I'm sorry."  

Time pulls away and holds him by the shoulders. "I have drinks hidden in the field. Wanna go?"  

He shakes his head.   

"We're gonna ge'caught," he mumbles, seeing the way Time is looking up at him with all the stars reflecting in his eyes and the moons too. The sight is breathtaking to him. "You know we can't do that."  

Time hums mischievously. Space loves that sound. "Yeah, but if we lay down, then they won't even notice if we're there." He hates how he has a point. He always has a point to prove Space wrong. "'nd we can always just sit on top of one of the trees. And drink. We should drink."  

He laughs.   

"C'mon, hyung!" Time says, pulling him up by the arm. He drags him down the street, holding him right up against his side, speaking heavens into Space's ears, feeling complete bliss and absolution.   

The empty packages of bandages and bandaids sit lonely on the curb, tilting side to side as the wind courses through their plastic outsides. The objects watch the two boys grow into two tiny specks until they are gone.


	6. NIGHT

**_MID-AUTUMN._ **

**AUGUST'2063, _MELOSA._ **

**16 YEARS OLD.**

━━ **THEY WERE BOTH** supposed to be studying for their finals, seeming that the inevitable tests will never leave their sides. In weeks, the time to take the hellish standardized tests will soon loom over every student like a sickening shadow, feeding off their anxiety and their stress in its purest, raw, form.   

But that's not what the boys are doing. They, quite simply, are sitting under the stars, looking up at the sky ( _Asteria looks down upon them. She's smiling_ ).  

In the years that had passed, only to you seeming like mere days, both boys had aged beautifully ( _two sons of beauty_ ). Time slowly revealed sharp jawlines and matured eyes, broad shoulders and same smiles. But if you squint, you could still see it in them. The innocence.  

( _It won't stay for too long_ ).  

One had dyed their hair pink, which now looks like an ashy shade now that it's fading, while the other had kept his hair his light shade of caramel brown. He liked to thread his fingers through the strands of his friend's pink hair while they studied for tests, which never really ended up happening. Instead, they talked and talked about everything and nothing ( _meaningless_ ).  

That same spark that the two had shared, had grown – it had become more powerful than it originally had. This spark is something special, as mentioned before. But this time around, it's extremely beautiful ( _it's liquid quartz melting through your fingertips_ ).  

It glows and it's electrifying, yet if you touch it, you won't feel its stinging, zapping sensation – you'd feel a warmth course through your body and enter your heart.  

This type of spark is pretty common between two people, maybe even more if the stars had aligned in the right timing, but these two sparks – they are just phosphorescent in appearance, glowing and luminously bright.  

This, this right here with these boys, was simply love.   

Love is supposed to be cherished. And it is. But sometimes love is confused with something else ( _a poison_ ). Some people just think that love is bad because of what it causes.  

But then love can be the most beautiful thing in existence ( _sometimes it can be the greatest tragedy and the grandest piece of art ever made_ ). And of course, you may have your own idea of love. Anything that brings you absolution serenity. It makes you float on air and it makes you into a better person, or feel. It just...helps with sad lives to color them a little bit to make life less bleak.   

These two boys had, to put it lightly, seen each other through rose-tinted glasses ever since they had met. They had slowly, very slowly, had fallen in love with each other ( _why, the demons watched this unfold and they died in a pitiful battle_ ). The reason being for the action can be something you all can have a guess on. It could be anything.   

It could be how one liked the way the other's voice sounded like when he talked and when he had just woken up in the morning ( _water over jagged rocks_ ). Or how he had a strong passion for music and just would not talk about it without this light in his eyes that the other loved. The sweet cologne. The pink hair. The other liked holding hands with him, even if they thought that it felt wrong.   

And reversed, it was probably how he liked the way the other's smile would be square-shaped. The smile seemed so bright and it was simply ethereal to him. That smile had been burned forever in his memories and he'd replay it like a film on an old camcorder. He loved the way the other wanted to help the world ( _he could never help himself_ ). He loved the way he would look up at the stars and moons, but the other would be staring at him as if he were the same. He loved when they hug because the other makes happy noises and holds him closer.   

They make their spark glow.   

And in the soft sounds of the crickets and the wind, a voice speaks itself into existence.  

"Taiga?"  

"Chan."  

Chan's feelings appear in a mirage of suns breaking through glass and flowering love. He's pondered over this to the moons more times than he can count, how he can tell his best friend. The moons never responded to him, but he didn't care. He'd stare at the red moon for reassurance and the green moon for hope. Right now, he needed both.   

And the latter is the exact same way.   

If you were to separately ask them when exactly they felt different towards each other, they couldn't give you a direct answer. They've been friends for almost seven years and have many memories shoved between, they couldn't pinpoint when they fell in love.  

The timeline is messy. The way the stars aligned when the sparks spun around earth and when the moon rose and the sun set had been unknown. It just happened so quickly, faster than when people snap their fingers or faster than fire spreads in a field. Too quickly.  

"I love you."  

Taiga scrunches his eyebrows. His back tenses above the soft grass and his fingers subtlety tighten in Chan's hands.  

"I love you too."  

But Chan doesn't think he understands.   

But oh, he _does_.   

He does and his heart is a liquid cosmos.  

"I don't mean it in that way," he says. Chan is looking up at him with and is playing with the rings on Taiga's fingers, twisting them around and soothing his thumb over the indigo stone, identical but not to the one he has. "I really, really love you."  

The other blinks, not knowing what to say.  

"I kinda just wanna hold your hand all the time and buy you things, like, I don't know, nice things. flowers?"  

(T _hey don't know, but a star explodes somewhere in space_ ).  

He gets sidetracked a little and talks about how he wants to take Taiga on an art museum date where the paintings are alive and maybe go to underground concerts to see holographic rappers who know how to spit lyrics of subjects like love, the government, the world, and even themselves.  

Taiga is listening to every word he says, every syllable and every pause. His eyes never leave Chan's lips or eyes. He's staring at him with so much adoration, it screams infinite passion and love just for this one man, and that is heard beyond the aurora borealis and the stratosphere.   

This one man, who is only just a tiny human being in a galaxy full of stars and spinning moons and planets that rain diamonds.  

(O _h, don't get so attached_ ).   

When Chan is still talking, Taiga presses his lips, quite softly, against Chan's and then, and _then_ —  

This kiss carves their initials onto their tongues. Their spark shines through their teeth and it feels like an ocean of silk and rose petals. It turns their whole world around and it wouldn't be much of a coincidence if the moons somehow moved closer than they were before and if the Cepheid star decides to shine a bit brighter than normal. The clouds drifting low in front of their eyes turn into dove feathers and encloses them in a sheer wrapping of soft white while their incandescent spark swims in a sea of rose water.  

The world is quiet around them while they kiss.   

So, so, quiet.  

( _A pitiful sigh_ ).  

Oh, but if only they knew that the quietness that surrounds them would only remain for a time that was ephemeral.   

And if only they knew, that their precious time with one another, would be just as short.                                  

 

 

 

 

 

 **The I miss you** act three:

Tell me that we will have a happy 

ending. 

Tell me that we are more than this. 

Tell me that the years we spent on earth

were more than just passing seconds. 

Tell me that the words we shared

were more than just simple sounds. 

Tell me that our breaths are simply

more than just filling empty voids. 

Tell me, please,   

 

 

_[left unfinished, circa 2087]._


	7. NIGHTMARE

**_UNKNOWN_ : KTG**

**UNKNOWN'2058, _XARES_. **

━━

He had a dream.

It was of a...a being, per se, standing in front of him. Its skin was a metallic shade of gray and its eyes were all black and large. It had crystals lining the collarbone like frozen tears ( _crafted by the cracks of ice from another galaxy_ ).

The voice, couldn't be defined as male or female, spoke. It was deep and echoed off of space's walls and the stars shivered in fear. The boy in front of it, didn't shake nor blink as the creature sneered at him. In his dream, a nightmare really, it spoke to him and traced a finger down his jaw and sighed ( _it breathed out shimmering dust_ ).

"The world is lonely, yes?"

The boy nods. He knows it far too well.

"But, you are not alone?"

Another nod. He knows he has a friend.

The creature nods and leans back on its chair ( _made out of gasses and stardust_ ), placing long-fingered hands above its chin while staring down at him.

He feels one of the stars come near him, shining the light it emits and the warmth. It reminded him of a certain someone he knew.

"What if I said that this friend doesn't love you?"

He says nothing.

"Is there nothing you could say about it?"

Frankly, he doesn't know what to say – how to react. He doesn't know what it feels like to actually love someone, doesn't understand the concept of it and how it manages to happen right under your noses, but he answers.

"I don't know."

( _The stars flicker. Just a bit_ ).

The creature hums once again. The sound seems mischievous, knowing. What does it know?

"He may love you now, but he won't love you later." Taiga  swallows. "Do you understand?"

He says _no_.

A hum.

(A _nother sigh from another lightyear_ ).

It crosses its legs and folds its hand over its knees. Taiga watches as the skin shifts and the galactic jewels adorning its wrists glint and glimmer in starry light.

The creature looks up at the sky, a smile on its face.

The boy tilts his head.

"You see, the concept of stars as soulmates and soulmates as stars in the sky, it is deemed not to be true." He doesn't know what it means, what it had meant, but he listened carefully. "Stars burn out, and stars are paired with soulmates, correct?"

He shrugs.

Shaking its head, "naive child," it snaps.

( _The stars flinch_ ).

"How do you live in this world? How do you live when the moon is split into two and people love each only because stars decided to collide together in such a way that makes them think it was destiny? How?"

He shakes his head. "I-I don't know how—"

"You pray to the moon every night, saying useless wishes and prayers that will not ever come true. There is no god. There is no angel. No devil. There is only the moons, time, the stars, and then there are things like me."

_Like you?_

"We are called—"

He doesn't understand.

Their speech was silenced but their lips still moved.

"The moons never loved you."

He doesn't understand.

"He loves you, but later, he won't."

And then, he understands.

( _ **See** , eleven is a fickle number. It is just after ten – the first double digit number, and before twelve – the step to the new age. Eleven, is where you have a vague sense of the universe, what some things are, some understandings of things or you realize things at this age. Maybe the first things you experience are at the age of eleven. The constant experience of the age eleven is changing. Always changing. It never really likes to stay the same_).

Taiga is eleven when he understands that soulmates don't exist. Taiga is eleven when he realized that he can't learn to love properly. Taiga is eleven when he learns that Chan won't love him anymore. Taiga is eleven when he stops believing in the stars.

This, this is the first step, to tragedy.

 

 

 

 

 

 **The most tragic lovers analyze another pair of lovers, & then continues to say that they are the next set of tragedies to not be saved** act fifty:

 **JULIET** **, _sadly_**

Oh, such a shame. The boy thinks he will never love him.

**ROMEO**

No, my fair Juliet, his lover will love him, but there will be a time where he will not.

**JULIET**

Will he love him back?

**ROMEO**

The others's heart is crafted into a indestructible metal. His heart his cold just like his hands.

 **JULIET**  

Will they have a happy ending?

 **ROMEO, _slowly_**  

Did we have a happy ending?

**JULIET**

**[** silence **]**.

**ROMEO**

These boys are but tragic lovers, darling. I'm not sure if they can be saved.

**JULIET, _powerfully_**

Why must everyone say that? Why can't they have a happy ending? We never had one, but these boys, the tragedy that they will face – it is unbearable. It reaches beyond stars and it falls into voids.

One's heart shall turn cold while the other stays warm, but deep to the depths of the other boy's heart, it is cold and hardened by his lover's tragic death. We _died_ , Romeo! We are gone.

We were supposed to _live_. Why must these two suffer as much as us? I refuse to believe that the sparks of them will die out. They can't. They can't.

Please, Romeo, please tell the gods to give them what they crave: _a simple happy ending_. 

**ROMEO**

We were never saved, Juliet. It was never to be part of our story where we lived. Maybe you must let this tragedy go and move forth onto the next.

**JULIET, _tears brimming her eyes_**

No! I fear for them. My heart is in shambles. I can't bare this feeling. I must save them, Romeo.

Let me save them, please! They deserve to be saved. Don't let them die like we did, Romeo. Not like we did, please. Not like we did.

**ROMEO, _forcibly_**

We can't, Juliet.

**JULIET**

Please, I beg you. Please.

**ROMEO, _pained_ **

I'm sorry, Juliet.

**JULIET, _cold_**

Time is out to _kill them_ , Romeo. Space is going to eat them from the inside and take over their _souls_.

This is worse than the pity stab to my heart and the wicked poison to your lips. We must save them. They deserve a soft ending, my love.

For they will face far too much in their lives. Too much for love. Too much sacrifice. Too much for each other.

 _ **ROMEO** and **JULIET** exit_.

 

 

 

 

 

_| CONVERSATION BETWEEN_

_TAIGA AND THE STARS_

 

 **STARS** :

Why do you not believe in us anymore? Where did we go wrong?

 **TAIGA** :

One of your mediorce leaders told me something that I should've learned a long fucking time ago.

 **STARS** :

It was a whalien, Taiga. They lie and cheat – why did you trust it?

 **TAIGA** :

How can I know if you're lying or not? How can you make me trust you again when I know that he won't love me anymore in the future?

 **STARS** :

Taiga, it would't—

 **TAIGA, _yelling at the sky_** :

What did I do, huh? Tell me what I did so I can fix it. Stop telling your sick bullshit and help me fix it. Tell me how to stop him from never loving me.

 **STARS** :

It...is out of our control.

 **TAIGA** :

Yet, you destine sick lovers because you're all clumsy fucks—

 **STARS** :

Taiga, please listen to us. We are trying to warn you before it is too late. Please understand that he won't love you back because of his own misfortune. He—

_**TAIGA**  exits_


End file.
